Season of mists and mellow fruitfulness,
Close bosom-friend of the maturing sun;
Conspiring with him how to load and bless
With fruit the vines that round the thatch-eves run;
To bend with apples the mossed cottage-trees,
And fill all fruit with ripeness to the core;
To swell the gourd, and plump the hazel shells
With a sweet kernel; to set budding more,
And still more, later flowers for the bees,
Until they think warm days will never cease;
For Summer has o’er-brimmed their clammy cells.
Who hath not seen the oft amid thy store?
Sometimes whoever seeks abroad may find
Thee sitting careless on a granary floor,
Thy hair soft-lifted by the winnowing wind;
Or on a half -reaped furrow sound asleep,
Drowsed with the fume of poppies, while thy hook
Spares the next swath and all its twined flowers
And sometimes like a gleaner thou dost keep
Steady thy laden head across a brook;
Or by a cider-press, with patient look,
Thou watches the last oozing hours by hours.
Where are the songs of spring? Aye, where are they?
Think not of them, thou hast thy music too,
While barred clouds bloom the soft-dying day,
And touch the stubble-plains with rosy hue;
Then in a willful choir the small gnats mourn
Among the river shallows, borne aloft
Or sinking as the light wind lives or dies;
And full-grown lambs loud bleat from hilly bourn;
Hedge-crickets sing; and now with treble soft
The redbreast whistles from a garden-croft;
And gathering swallows twitter in the skies.
Honesty
-Mohammad Mamun Mia
Honesty is praiseworthy
Dishonesty is cursed
The former is hard enough to keep
The latter has nothing to reap
If anybody wants to have the greatest benefit
Must he prepare himself and honest life lead?
Honesty is rewarded here and hereafter
That can sublime a man’s character
The soul is dead without being honest
As a bird flies randomly having no nest.
Soul’s purification is needed to lead life honestly
Honesty has the great value evaluated properly.
